Mnemosyne
by Frederick Grace
Summary: Legend has it that before you die, your life flashes before your eyes. If you were to die, today, what would you see? The Marauders - lives and deaths. A tale of friendship, loyalty, love, death, betrayal, and the last hope.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:** All characters in this fan fiction are owned by J K Rowling.

**Mnemosyne**

The Prologue.

Legend has it that before you die, your whole life flashes before your eyes. If you were to die, today, what would you see?

Back in the time of the Ancient Greeks, when gods were revered, and sacrifices made, the titan goddess Mnemosyne was said to be Memory. The mother of the nine Muses, she allows us to travel back through time, and remember all that once was dear to us. We are permitted to go back, re-live events that happened eve years ago.

This, is a true blessing.

Once upon a time, there were four boys, whose lives were twisted together, bound tightly by the bonds of friendship, love, and destiny.

Once upon a time, there were three boys who died. Whose lives were brutally cut short, as they were betrayed, murdered, lost.

Now, we remember them. Their memories shall live on in this Pensieve of last thoughts.

This, reader, is the story of the end.

**Authors Note: **This is my first ever fan fiction. Please Review!


	2. James

Disclaimer: All characters are owned by J K Rowling.

Mnemosyne.

**James Potter.**

**31st October 1981**

**Godric's Hollow**

_The fire in the grate flickers, and dies. _

_The whole house shakes, the whole world is shaking, burning._

_He's here. _

_I can hear curses, explosions, screaming. _

_Our guard is dead. _

_Our location betrayed. _

_He betrayed us._

_It's over._

_I scream for her to run, "Lily, take Harry and go! It's Him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off-" _

_My voice dies in my throat as the door is blasted in, exploding in a stream of red sparks and dusty rubble._

_It's Him. _

_This is the End. _

_I stare forwards, wand raised, I'm going to die, but I'm sure as hell not gonna let this bastard touch my wife and son. _

_I'll die like a man, like a hero. _

_And I'm taking this piece of shit with me. _

_I look forwards into his eyes, scarlet, burning, like the devil, like blood set afire. _

_And I can see death. _

_My death._

_It is time._

The very first thing James Potter can remember is being three years old, when he cried for an hour, non-stop, crying so hard that his very soul ached with each sob, because his Daddy wouldn't read him a bed time story.

He remembers crying and pleading, until eventually James Potter Senior looked down into glistening hazel orbs, and his heart melted. Smiling half lovingly, half exasperatedly, he bent down and scooped up his son, and whispered, "Alright then, my little Champion. What story shall it be?" And as always, little James clapped his hands and squealed delightedly, and crowed the name of his hero. "Ar-tur, Ar-tur!" James Senior chucked, and tossed his son into the air, catching him at the last second. "Kind Arthur it is."

Once Little James was tucked securely into his little bed, James Senior sat beside him, and in the light of a softly glowing candle that floated by the head of the bead, summoned a thick, leather bound story book. "Well. Once upon a time, back in the days when Merlin himself walked the Earth, there was a young Wizard by the name of Arthur. He was a very normal boy - not extra powerful, not extra good, not even extra loved. For Arthur had no Mummy and no Daddy. He lived with his Uncle, Cousin Kay, who did there best to be good to the boy. Despite having no parents, Arthur grew into a strong young man, courageous, and brave. However, he was always left in the shadow cast by his Cousin, and was no more than a lowly Potions Apprentice.

"Until one day, Kay asked Arthur to fetch his sword from the lodge, so that Kay could participate in a Wizard's Duel. Arthur readily agreed to assist his cousin, and flew for home as fast as his broom would carry him. However, time was short, and Arthur was passing over a cemetery when he saw a glint of silver. He landed, and hurried over to the source of the light. It was a sword, long and silver, with a ruby in the hilt the size of a phoenix egg, embedded in a large stone. Arthur decided to borrow the sword, and return it later. He grasped the handle, and the sword slid smoothly out of the rock, like a mermaid leaping out of water. He hurried to the battle ground, and as soon as all the Wizards saw him, they knew. Arthur was the rightful King of Briton. It was his destiny.

"For the legend said that only the heir of the late King Uther Pendragon could remove the sword from the stone, and though many Kings and Princes and Lords had tried, only young Arthur, a mere Apprentice, could wield the mighty Excalibur.

"King Arthur went on to perform many heroic deeds, and save many lives, but at the end of his days, he cast the sword deep into a lake, where it was taken to the magic isle of Avalon, to be cared for until the next rightful owner should emerge, worthy of carrying the Sword of Arthur.

"And one day, a man was deemed worthy. Godric Gryffindor, one of the founders of Hogwarts… Brave, courageous, a hero. That's the type of people that get put in Gryffindor, Jamie Boy. Heroes." James Junior immediately (albeit sleepily,) demanded to be put in Gryffindor. James Senior laughed, and told him only the worthy go to Gryffindor, and it was up to fate, destiny, and an old Hat to decide. James was puzzled, but James Senior just laughed, and told him to wait until he went to Hogwarts. "Jamie, on your first day at Hogwarts… You'll understand. I promise." Little James just blinked at him sleepily, and sucked his thumb, and thought to himself, _I'll be a hero. I'll make you proud, Daddy. Whatever it takes. I'm a Gryffindor. _Then his dark haired head hit the pillow, and he was asleep.

Eight years later, and young James Potter was standing in the Great Hall of Hogwarts, under the bewitched ceiling, all lit up with candles and stars. However, the eleven year old boy had no patience for the beauty and splendour of the night sky. Instead, he was hopping up and down impatiently, desperately searching for the Hat. Eventually, after what seemed like agonising _years _of waiting, the dark haired, severe faced witch known as Minerva McGonagall called his name. "Potter, James!" James grinned, and impatiently hurried through the throng of First Year Students. _Gryffindor, here I come!_ he thought, ignoring the flutter of uncertainty in the pit of his stomach as he raced up to the dais. He scooped up the Hat, and plonked it on his head, the expectancy at what he would hear almost unbearable. _**Well now, here's a face I always knew id see again. Little Jamie Potter. Come back again, have we? Its nice to see you following the conventional route this time… **_

James flushed, at the use of his pet name, and at the slight rebuke in the words. _Im sorry! _He thought defensively, remembering the time he had crept into Uncle Dumby's office, seven years old, and tried the Hat on. _I wanted to know… __**But you already did! **_laughed the Hat. _**James Potter. You are courageous, loyal, and you will grow into one of the best men I've ever sorted. But be careful. A man is judged not how he teaches his equals, but how he treats his inferiors. Keep your friends close, James. **_A mental _HUH? _reverberated around the eleven year old's mind, and the Hat laughed again. _**Don't worry, James. You've always known where you'd end up. It's time James, time to go home.. For you are, and always will be,**_ "GRYFFINDOR!"

James leapt up with a whoop, throwing the Hat high in the air in pure ecstasy. "YEAH!" He shouted happily, and was rewarded with a chuckle from Dumbledore, and a severe frown from McGonagall, who carefully levitated the precious Hat back to its stool. James flushed guiltily. "Sorry." he muttered, partially to McGonagall, and partially to the chuckling Hat. The he grinned, and sat at the Gryffindor table, his heart singing as he gazed at the red and gold banner, the lion roaring proudly. Here he was home, amongst heroes.

The very worst thing James can remember, is the day he realised that he had failed everyone. It was June, and he was fifteen years old - practically a man. It was the day of his Defence Against the Dark Arts OWL exam, and it was also the day that he realised he completely hated the person he was growing into. He woke up late, and ran to the Great Hall, knocking people over, never once stopping to apologise, or help them up. He wolfed his food, and snatched the biggest rasher of bacon, and knocked pumpkin juice all over Alice's revision notes - and then laughed at her for being dumb enough to think revision notes are gonna help a hopeless case like herself.

Then, after the exams, he went down to the lake, and chatted with his gang about the exam - dismissing Peter's worries, dismissing Peter full stop. He started playing with the practice Snitch that he had nicked, basking in the hero worship bestowed on him by the same chubby boy that he practically ignored earlier. He rumpled his hair, constantly showing off, preening, and generally thinking he was King of the world. Then it happened. He had bullied Severus Snape, humiliated him. Just because he was a Slytherin. Because he was different. Because he was weaker. Because he existed. Because James could.

James could never again think back on this without shame. Lily Evans. She had been the only one to stand up to James, to deflate his conceited head. She was the only one not afraid to tell him that he was an arrogant, bullying toerag. Consequently, she wouldn't go out with him if it was a choice between him and the Giant Squid.

That night, he lay awake, listening again and again to Lily's rebukes. It was that night that he realised what a mess he was making of his life, of everything. It was that night that for the first time in many years, James Potter cried himself to sleep.

Three years later is one of the happiest moments of James' life. There are still similarities. He still woke up late. The only person he listened to was still Sirius. He still ran around and knocked people over. But he always apologised, and well he did have an excuse. After all, it was his wedding day. He dressed in his brand new Dress Robes, and attempted to flatten his wild black hair. It was hopeless. He sighed, and was just about to go into a full scale Potter panic, and just leg it out of the window, when Sirius burst into the room. "Right, Potter, let's get one thing straight!" He barked, "You are going to CALM DOWN! Merlin knows I have always hated that red-headed bint, but d'you know what, James? Today, I LOVE her, because she is giving you the one thing I never could. She is going to make you the happiest man alive, James. You are going to let me fix your hair, have a shot of Firewhisky, and then we are going to go out there, and show everyone what you're made of!"

James buckled under his friends fiery gaze, and succumbed to the hair treatment, but refused the stiff drink. Sirius had several. "Seriously, though…" His friend grinned, but refrained from any comments. "No really, what… What if I'm making the biggest mistake of my life? don't get me wrong, I love Lily. With all my heart. But what if I'm wrong… I just… Sirius, I'm scared." It took a lot for him to admit that. It took every ounce of his Gryffindor bravery to continue. "I'm scared that it will come between us. I mean, it'll be me and lily. Lily and James, Sirius and Remus. And… Well what happened to Siri and Jamie? The first Marauders. We're _best_ friends. You're the brother I never had. I would trust you with my life, and I just don't want my marriage to come between us, and change that."

Sirius nodded, smiled, and embraced James, like a brother would, without the awkward manly back slapping or verbal exchange the usually accompanied such displays of affection. James then followed his Best Man out to the Lake, where the ceremony was to take place, and said his vows with not a single tremor or split second of hesitation. He whispered "I love you." She smiled, took his hand, and swore to love him forever. And whenever he looked back at the wedding photos, Lily in his arms, Sirius by his side, watching his back… James realised just how right it all really was.

James can also remember the moment his son Harry was born. He had been nervous, and received many pep talks from Padfoot, who was ecstatic about the whole thing. Lily was so overcome with his enthusiasm and attempts and helpfulness that she agreed to name him Godfather. Then when Harry was born, a bundle of black hair and green eyes, and a smile as bright as the sun, James had felt like his life was complete. He had a son. He would tell him bedtime stories, raise him to be a hero. His son would look up to him, love him. He had a son.

James had apparated his wife back to Godric's Hollow, his son Harry in his arms, and the look on Padfoot's face… It was a strange expression, a kind of crumpled delight. "James…" he choked. "He looks like you."

James had nodded, beaming, and as Lily received compliments from "Uncle Remus, yes he is…" James had taken Sirius to one side.

"Padfoot, Me and Lily would be honoured if you would be Harry's Godfather. Y'know, buy him presents, look after him if anything happened to us…" Sirius had astonished him then, by actually crying. Well, he had let out a choked whimper, and a single tear had escaped, and before James knew it, he was trapped in the fiercest bear hug of his entire life. When he was released, there was no sign of the tear, but Sirius' eyes were shining with delight.

"Prongs," he said, "Prongs, I swear on my life that I will love that boy like my own, and if, Merlin forbid, anything should happen to you and Lily, then I would protect him with everything I have." James nodded and smiled, and handed the overcome man his Godson. "Hey kiddo…" whispered Sirius. James grinned, and clasped Lily's hand in his own.

"Thank you." He whispered to his wife. She smiled back, her green eyes glittering.

"I love you." She whispered.

"I love you too." he whispered back. "I always will." He will always remember the feel of her in his arms. He will always remember holding his boy close, and seeing her eyes gazing back.

He will never forget them.

They are his family.

_His life has passed before his eyes in a matter of seconds. _

_This is it. _

_He knows he can't survive an encounter with Voldemort. _

_But he doesn't wasn't his last thoughts to be of fear, of cowardice and darkness. _

_He looks to the floor, where a photograph lies smashed, crushed by a Death Eaters boot, the glass glittering in the moonlight._

_But it doesn't matter, because he can still see his darling, darling Lily smiling and waving up at him, his one year old baby laughing happily, his green eyes dancing. _

_He smiles, and though his soft brown eyes are blurred with tears, he doesn't cry, doesn't beg. _

_Its just his time. _

_He is protecting what he loves._

_He is a hero._

_The last thing James Potter sees is a flash of green. _

_Green like fresh cut grass, like candlelight bouncing off an emerald._

_Green, like his son's eyes._


	3. Sirius

**Disclaimer: **All characters are owned by J K Rowling.

**Mnemosyne.**

**Sirius Black.**

**July.**

**The Department of Mysteries.**

_I have to find him, I have to save Harry._

_I promised._

_I'm running, and then he's there, and I'm fighting, I'm fighting for him._

_For James._

_For the one I love._

_For my life._

_And then she's there._

_The last of those whom I hate above all else._

_I'm ducking curses, hexes, jinxes, laughing._

_Inside, I'm terrified._

_I'mgoingtodieI'mgoingtodie…_

_I won't let her kill me, I won't let her beat me, I won't let her take me from them._

_She won't win._

_They will not win!_

_I glance to him, I want to know he is safe, and it's too late, and I look at her, into those eyes so similar to my own._

_And I see it, just as I saw it after I escaped. _

_The silver of her eyes is tarnished with madness, tainted with insanity._

_The laughter escapes, because I realise, I finally realise what the world has done to me._

_It's made me like them._

_I'm a Black._

_And it's all his fault._

_I am betrayed._

Sirius remembers. Some memories - bad memories are as clear as crystal, imprinted, branded, seared on his mind by the Dementors of Azkaban. After twelve years in hell, none of it makes much sense. The good things he can vaguely, distantly recall, as though through a haze of summer heat. The bad, however, the nightmares… Well that's another story. The horrific moments he wants desperately to forget, that he was forced to re-live, they are at the forefront of his thoughts, clouding his judgements, haunting his step.

Twelve years in Azkaban does more than temporarily affect your sanity. Azkaban consumes your life. It pollutes your future with memories, dreams of rotting cells, freezing cold nights, and the faceless, soul-consuming guards. Azkaban also taints your past, corrupting the good, exaggerating the bad. No one escapes the insanity in the end. It is a punishment that far outstrips the crime.

And yet, Sirius Black survived. Few happy memories left intact, but he was mostly sane.

Mostly.

Some days he would be doing something normal - kicking his own arse at Wizard's Chess, plaiting Buckbeaks tail, knocking back a Firewhisky, and he remembers.

The earliest memory he has left is of his father.

Orion Black. An imposing man at best, and a Dark Wizard at worst, he was powerful, rich, and consequently feared my most witches and wizards who had heard the Black name. So practically everyone.

Except Sirius.

To Sirius, his father was the best man in the world. And when Little Siri grew up, he wanted to be just like him.

It happened during an Astronomy lesson. They were on the roof of Number 12 Grimmauld Place, gazing up at the midnight sky, staring up at the glittering stars. His father was pointing them out - Orion the Hunter. Brave, strong, a true leader. Sirius nodded, his eyes filled with awe as he gazed up at his Father. Truly, his Father MUST be the greatest man alive to have a name worthy of a Hunter of Stars… Then Orion had smiled at four year old Sirius and pointed to another of the shining stars and said, "And look there. Sirius, the Dog Star. That's what you are! Orion's pet dog!"

Sirius had smiled up at his Father, feeling proud, thinking he meant it as a companion, Man's loyal best friend, but then… There was something cold in his Fathers eyes, something that made Sirius think his Father meant… A pet. A show dog. Something to be tamed, trained. To obey Orion without question. Sirius flushed, and ran downstairs the second his father dismissed him. He'd ran all the way upstairs, but the door to his room was locked. Lesson's weren't over. He bit his lip to stop the forbidden tears, and punched the door as hard as he could.

Then, cradling bleeding knuckles, he crept into Regulus' nursery. Lucky Reg, only three, didn't have to worry about ANYTHING. Sirius sighed and glared jealously at his baby brother. Regulus smiled back, and Sirius felt his heart bleed. Little Reggie, he just didn't understand what Sirius, who was FOUR WHOLE YEARS old could see. Reg had yet to show signs of magic, in fact he had yet to even speak. Sirius knew that if Regulus didn't do something soon, then he'd be disowned. Quite possibly killed. He's heard Mother and Father discussing once, when they thought he was asleep. He sighed and poked Regulus on the nose, causing the baby to chuckle. Then, to Sirius' absolute astonishment, Regulus had placed one of his chubby toddler's hands over Sirius bloody one, and the cuts had healed. Not even a scar. Sirius gaped at his brother, then beamed. Regulus beamed too and reached out for one of their Secret Hugs. "Siri!" He laughed. And Sirius had wept.

After that, Sirius' childhood is just a blur. A whirlwind of screaming tutors, blood quills, screaming parents. Wizards robes, mocking cousins, punishment after punishment. Seeing the disappointment in their eyes, again and again.

And his brother.

Sirius can remember every hurtful word, every "I HATE YOU!" that Regulus ever said. It makes his heart bleed, his soul ache when he think of Regulus.

And his mother.

Sirius can remember every "SHAME OF MY FLESH!" Every "I WISH YOU'D NEVR BEEN BORN!" Issued from between his mothers screaming, painted lips. The anger flares up, and he remembers nights where he cried with anger, deep sobs that can hardly be described as such - more like massive convulsions of anger that racked his whole body, causing tears to escape from his tightly closed silver eyes.

Sirius especially remembers the night after he got sorted into Gryffindor. He was in shock, sitting fully dressed on his bed, the words of the Hat whirling round his mind, over and over again, like a mantra, like a prayer. _**You'd be great in Slytherin, far too loving, stand up to your parents, accept your fate, for the sake of another, a spark, deep inside of you, stand up to them, be yourself, a taste of freedom, far too rebellious, you'd be great in Slytherin far too loving stand up to your parents accept your fate for the sake of another a spark deep inside of you stand up to them be yourself a taste of freedom far too rebellious stand up to them be yourself a taste of freedom a taste of freedom…**_

Then it came, delivered by a Black crow, the Howler. Screaming, ruby-blood coloured fury, scarlet mists of shame.

They were ashamed. Disappointed. They didn't love him. He brought shame upon the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. Blood Traitor. Worthless. He would regret it. They would make him wish he'd never been born.

He didn't cry. Even when he felt the stares of his dorm mates on the back of his bent head. He looked up through a curtain of dark hair, and still he didn't cry. When he saw Lupin's stare of shock, pity, sympathy, empathy? When saw Pettigrew hiding under the bed, afraid of him. When he heard Potter's whisper. "I'm sorry, Sirius. But she's wrong anyway. You're a Gryffindor. We're Gryffindors. We're going to be heroes, Sirius. You'll see. You'll see." Sirius looked up, desperately searching James' eyes, and he found it. James didn't hate him, pity him. He wasn't afraid. His eyes were burning with fierce loyalty, determination.

It was then that Sirius decided James was going to be his best friend. He didn't know it, but James was deciding the very same thing. "Thank you. James." he whispered. James nodded and smiled, and patted his shoulder in a comforting gesture. The first gentle touch Sirius had felt in over 5 years, when Regulus decided he was too old for secret hugs. He still didn't cry.

The next morning, though, his face was damp. It's funny, he reflected, that you don't even have to be awake to cry. Asleep, maybe we are at our most honest. Less guarded. We are out own person, without barriers, or gates.

Ironically, that was how he initially discovered something was wrong with Remus. He was having a nightmare, and Sirius never was one to let his very first friends suffer. He crept over to Remus' bed, and parted the curtains. Remus was thrashing about, whimpering, an inhuman, dog-like sound. Sirius reached out to.. well, wake him. Or comfort him, but before he touched Remus' skin, he noticed. Remus' pyjama top had risen up, and Sirius could see… Scars. Long, white, silvery, scars. Like he had been attacked by a vicious creature. Sirius frowned, and backed away, something inside him not wanting to let Remus know he had seen. The other boy was a notoriously private one. He wouldn't even swim in the Black Lake with them. Now Sirius knew why.

He went back to bed, but his dreams were filled with Remus, screaming, bleeding, and faceless, shapeless creatures, with claws as long as his arms, and teeth like carving knives lunging at him out of the darkness.

Weeks went by, and Sirius didn't say anything. Until the night. Remus had gone home to visit his sick mother, again. And Sirius was sitting by the window, bored. He sighed, and looked up at the sky, willing James to get back from detention. Hell, he'd even settle for Peter to get back from wherever he'd scurried off too. He tipped his head back, resting it against the window frame, and looked up. Into the inky blackness, soft-looking. Like his velvet cloak. It was dotted with stars, beautiful stars. He could spot Sirius and Orion and Regulus from here. He chuckled inwardly and his gaze drifted fro the stars to the moon. Shining, white, pure, and perfectly round. A full moon.

He frowned. Something was not quite right. Inside, he knew there was something significant about the full moon tonight. Maybe it was a special one. He shrugged. He'd ask Remus.

Remus.

He fell off the window seat in shock, just as James walked in, Invisibility Cloak in hand. "Alright, Sirius?" He said, chuckling. James' smile faded when he saw the look of shock and terror on Sirius' face. "What's wrong? Siri? What's happened? Is it Regulus?" James alone knew that Regulus was the only family member left whom Sirius would willingly die for.

Sirius shook his head, and somehow managed to stutter, "R..Remus…", whilst pointing at the moon. James looked completely bemused. "Um, no… That would be the moon, Siri." Sirius shook his head and pointed again, not knowing how to phrase his discovery.

"No. _Full moon_, James." James frowned deeply, and stood there. Although he acted like an idiot most of the time, when occasion called for it he could be as sharp as a dagger. Sirius could pinpoint the second James got it. His mouth dropped open and he backed away from the window.

"Oh Merlin…" he breathed. The two boys looked at each other, and whispered, "Werewolf." The word was like a dagger in Sirius' gut. Being raised a Black, he was taught that werewolves were scum, worse than that, they were dogs, deserving only to be put down. But _Remus…_ He shook his head frantically.

"No! I won't let them! I won't let them kill him!" James, sensing a **moment** decided a hug would be best. He drew him close, embracing him like one would a brother.

"It's okay, Siri. We'll protect him. He's our friend. It's not Remus' fault." Sirius pulled back, his eyes shining.

"Never said it was." he choked. "Poor Remus. That's where the scars come from. Oh Merlin, poor Remus!" James nodded, and it wasn't necessary to speak. A moment of silent communication passed between them. Tomorrow, they would tell Remus. They would tell him they knew, and he would cry, and beg and plead, and Sirius and James would hug him tight, and swear they weren't leaving him. They didn't hate him. He was theirs, their friend. And the three of them would be friends forever and for always.

Always.

Every memory Sirius possesses is bad. The only good memories he has left are intertwined, connected with the nightmares. He doesn't remember the good times at Hogwarts. They have been spoiled, like someone threw water all over a freshly done paining, blurring it, ruining it, the colours merging in running ribbons of water. Like tears.

The next thing Sirius can remember is The Prank. The one that went so wrong.

The one that made them all hate him. Or so he thought.

Evans was screaming at James, rebuking him. "How could you EVR forgive him! They should lock him up and throw away the key! He's nothing but a bully, a MURDERER! It's no surprise really, look at his family! I bet his mother and father are so proud-"

"Evans, SHUT THE FUCK UP!"

"I… I be your pardon?" Lily was stunned. James NEVER spoke to her like this! He LOVED her for Merlin's sake! She took a deep breath to scream until his no good big ears bled, but James wasn't finished.

"Lily. You can insult me as much as you like - call me pig-headed, call me arrogant, call me a SLYTHERIN if you will - but don't you DARE criticise my brother in front of me! You've got no right!"Lily opened her mouth to protest that James didn't HAVE a brother, but James continued. "Sirius is more than a best friend to me, and I love him more than most! I KNOW he can be annoying, believe me, I know him better than you, and I KNOW he is a rule breaking maniac, and I KNOW he bullies the Slytherins, and I'm not proud to admit it, but I KNOW I do it too! But its not one sided, and its not without reason! Tell me this, Evans, if you had been oppressed, restrained, neglected and resigned to a Slytherin fate, a single monotonous expectancy of life and then suddenly the chains were lifted and you were FREE - what would you do?

"I suppose a lesser man, a COWARD would withdraw, become quiet, stick to what he knows, but not SIRIUS! A Slytherin with a Gryffindors heart! When he was given the world on a plate, he asked for ketchup! For Merlin's SAKE Lily! He spent his life in the dark and you wonder at his love for fireworks? And the jailers who restrained him all those years - the MONSTERS who stole his childhood - how DARE you judge him for seeking revenge! Sirius may be morally and mentally challenged, but he's a good man and a good friend with a heart of gold. I trust him with my life, because despite all that he's been through, despite his family, he hasn't let it change and corrupt him, and YOU, Lily Evans have NO BLOODY IDEA what it was like for him, a pureblood, to be unloved and disowned just because he refused to conform to their rules! For Merlin's sake Lily, they bent him so far he actually broke, and you have no idea what its like for him, so don't you DARE claim to understand, and don't you DARE judge him! Don't you fucking DARE!"

James fell silent, breathing hard. His eyes were glistening, and Lily strongly suspected he was about to burst into tears. However, before she could even begin to apologise, he had turned away, walking, almost running, from the woman he had thought he loved, never looking back.

Around the corner, a dark haired fifth year slid down the wall, speechless, shocked, numb, tears falling from his silver eyes for the first time in many years.

That night, he crept over to James' bed. "Jamie?" he whispered, his voice cracking as he spoke. James looked up, a question in his eyes.

"Jamie did you mean it? I'm your brother? Did you mean it?" A flicker of emotion, confusion, then James realised Sirius had heard.

"I meant everything I said, Sirius. I forgive you." Sirius could hardly breathe, he was crying again.

"Merlin… Sirius, are you… You're crying!" Sirius wiped his face on his pyjama sleeve.

"No m'not.." He found himself in a tight hug.

"It's okay, Sirius. Remus forgive you, he does! We just wanted to know you were sorry-"

"I am, I'm sorry, sorrysorrysorry…." James ruffled his hair.

"We know. It's okay. And Sirius, y'know, if you ever don't want to go home… If you want to leave… You can come and live with me. Mum won't mind, she loves you like a son anyway. And Dad thinks you're the best thing that ever came out of the House of Black." Sirius looked at James, and smiled.

"You… You mean it? I never have to go back?"

"Never." promised James. "Never."

The next few years are a haze of being James' best man, of being a Godfather. But all his memories of James and Lily, all his memories of The Potters are tainted with their deaths. Whenever he thinks of James, he can't picture his friend laughing, all he can see is his lifeless hazel eyes staring at the sky as ash and fire rained down on him.

It was Sirius who had found them. He knew the alarm had been triggered - the guard was dead, the Potters had been found! He had run to his motorbike, and flew to Godric's Hollow. Ready to fight the Death Eaters, ready to die for his friends, Ready to defend them. As soon as he landed he knew it was over. Godric's Hollow was ablaze, half of the house in ruins. He extinguished the flames with a wave of his wand, and made his way into the ruins.

He saw him then. James. Oh Merlin. James. Dead. "Jamie?" he whimpered, and fell to his knees beside his brother. he cradled James head, and cried. Tears of sorrow and heartbreak falling onto James lifeless face, making it look as though the messy haired man was weeping too. Sirius had stayed there for hours, willing James to wake up, to comfort him. Willing this to be some sick dream. Eventually he stood, and with a heart filled with dread he made his way to the nursery. His worst fears were confirmed. He could see Lily's lifeless body slumped on the floor, her scarlet hair surrounding her like a pool of blood. And Harry, lying quiet and still, one of Lily's arms over his stomach, blood on his head, running down his face. Sirius let out a cry of absolute heart-wrenching pain - only to have it matched, by a thin wail, the cry of a baby. He gasped, and walked forwards, his mercury eyes searching. There. They were met by Harry's bottle green eyes. He was alive. "Oh Merlin…" Sirius scooped up his Godson, placed a kiss on Lily's brown, and hurried out of the wreckage. His brother was dead. His best friends were dead. But his Godson was alive.

Harry was alive.

And Sirius was going to look after him.

After all, he did promise.

Then Hagrid arrived, told him he wasn't allowed to take the baby. Told him Harry had to go to the muggles. Sirius was filled with rage. Dumbledore had no right to make him break his word to James. He had no right. But as Sirius thought of it, he realised.

Everyone thought he was the secret keeper. They would think he-

No.

Impossible. Who could think such a thing? They must know… But no one knew he wasn't, not even Remus. Oh, Remus… How could Sirius have ever suspected he was the spy… Oh Merlin… He had to find the traitor, clear his name.

Fuck that.

Peter.

He was going to KILL the rat!

He had betrayed them!

He was to blame, and Sirius was going to avenge his friends. They would have revenge.

He vaguely remembers handing over Harry, hunting down Pettigrew. Then Peter had exploded the street, transformed. Sirius remembers the irony of it. It was Sirius who taught Peter the animagus spell. He remembers laughing, laughing and laughing. How could anyone have known, bumbling, stupid Pettigrew, cunning. A Slytherin. A Death Eater.

Sirius could do nothing but laugh.

They were betrayed.

The rest of his life is a muddle of cold, of the stench of death, his release, Remus, returning to Grimmauld.

And Harry.

He still has Harry

_He will always have Harry._

_His godson._

_James' son._

"_James…"_

_The curse hits him full on in the chest._

_His vision is filled with red, like scattered rubies, like blood and firelight._

_He is falling backwards._

_He feels it calling him, he can hear their whispers._

_They know he's coming._

_He's going home._

_He falls, he can hear screaming, and manic laughter, but it's far away as though from underwater._

_He's falling._

_Falling._

**Authors Note: **Thanks to Lady Tol, my first reviewer!

Also, this fanfic will contain a chapter for each of the Marauders, possibly including Peter.


	4. Remus

**Disclaimer: **All characters are owned by J K Rowling.

**Mnemosyne.**

**Remus J Lupin**

**The Eve of Battle**

**Number 12 Grimmauld Place**

_I'm tired._

_So very tired. _

_My bones ache. _

_I go to his room. _

_To the secret stash of alcohol he never knew I knew about._

_Orange-y gold liquid._

_The colour of Moony's eyes, or so I've been told._

_Down in one. _

_Burning, smoking, choking._

_Good stuff._

_Can't think. _

_Mustn't think. _

_Oh Merlin, I mustn't think about him._

_Go downstairs, to the room with the tapestry._

_Burn the whole thing to the ground._

_I can hear him laughing._

_Go to the dresser, get the Pensieve._

_Swirling silver-white._

_The colour of the moon._

_So many memories._

_I fall in deep, I can't help but remember._

_I remember._

It's midnight. Cliché, it's true, but midnight nonetheless. And little four year old Remus Lupin is lying on his back, in the long grass, staring up at the night sky.

He always loved the night sky. So full of stars, and lights, and mystery. His mother loved the stars too, but the moon was her favourite. She told Remus whispered stories, of The Man in the Moon, of various Moon Gods and Goddesses. Artemis, Selene, Luna, Diana, Khons and Mani. The Greek, Roman, Egyptian, Norse.

Little Remus loved tales of the moon, especially the story of Mani and Hati. Mani was the son of Mundilfari and Glaur, and the brother of Sol the Sun Goddess. The Old Nose legend said that Mani pulled the Moon across the sky every night, in his chariot. However, every night, Mani was pursued by the wolf Hati. The tale is that Hati will never catch up with Mani, and the Moon, until Ragnarok, the end of the world. Then, Hati will consume the moon, and Mani with it.

The first time Remus heard that story, he had laughed. His mother, confused, asked him why he would laugh at such a story. Little Remus looked at her, his blue eyes shining in the moonlight, his pale skin glowing. "How could a silly wolf eat the Mani. The Moon is big and beautiful, and nothing could destroy it!" His mother smiled, and laughed, and then-

All Remus' memories, of silvery moonlight, grass rippling in the dark, his mother's hair shining, beautiful in the glow of the full moon, were ripped apart. Blood smothered every blade of silvery-green wild grass, screams muffled every softly spoken Moon Tale.

Remus Lupin screamed to the sky as his mother was ripped apart, ruby red, thick and black looking in the darkness, the comfort of the moonlight blotted out as the wolf stood above him, and tore away part of his soul with its vicious teeth. Little Remus screamed and screamed. He felt as though fire was coursing through him, and as his world faded to pain and darkness, stained with red, he realised that this truly, was the end of the world.

From then on, Remus' life is nothing but a blur of full moons, of pain, shifting bones, screaming, waking up with blood on his hands, in his mouth. So much blood, staining his whole world, staining his soul. He was cursed, he must be. Having survived the end of the world, he had thought himself blessed. Until he looked up at the sky, and the moon he saw there filled him not with peace, or loving memory, but with a violent, primal hate. Then, it consumed him.

Every full moon, like Hati consumes Mani. The end of the world.

Remus often wished it would end, that he shouldn't have to endure this, but something inside of him… Some feral, animal instinct would not let him surrender.

Even though there was nothing left to live for.

Until Hogwarts.

Remus still couldn't believe it.

He really honestly couldn't believe it. Why on Earth would they let a werewolf go to school?

Even in his head it sounded bizarre.

He still wasn't convinced he belonged here, even when Professor McGonagall called his name to be Sorted.

He still couldn't believe it, and shivered as a horrible thought struck him. What if the Hat could see… What if, what if it shouted his secret to the world, and everyone knew? He'd be thrown out, what was he doing here? There must have been a mistake, there must have. He wasn't supposed to be here, what was he thinking! _Oh Merlin, everyone's going to know, Father will KILL me! Never mind Father, what will they all say? I'm going to be sick… _He stood there, faint with fear, unable to move, frozen a few steps away from the stool, and he vaguely registered a few snickers, especially from the Slytherin table, but found he actually didn't care. He looked around desperately, as though searching for an escape, and quite by chance, his eyes were drawn to the Headmaster.

_Albus Dumbledore…_ He was sitting in a golden chair, rather like a throne, in robes of deep purple, his silver beard shining. His eyes met Remus', and he smiled, rather like a Grandfather would to a scared Grandchild. Remus looked into the bright blue eyes, twinkling knowingly, and relaxed slightly. If Dumbledore knew, and still let him attend... Dumbledore nodded encouragingly, and Remus picked up a the hat and sat down, placing it on his head, shutting out the sounds of whispered laughter until he could hear nothing but the sound of his own heartbeat. _**Well well**_. Said the Hat. _**What have we here?**_

Surrounded by the blackness of the Hat, Remus was completely frozen, his hands gripping the wooden seat in abject terror. The Hat knew, unquestionably, he knew. He could feel its presence in his mind, it could see everything, the whole of him. He let out a barely audible whimper as the Hat continued to speak, in a comforting tone, rather like an elderly relative (if Remus had had any.) _**Don't worry, little cub. I'll not tell anyone. It'll be our secret hm? **_

___Thankyouthankyouthankyou _thought Remus desperately. Then, _please, please don't put me in Slytherin… I didn't mean to… Im not… Im not Dark… Please - _The Hat cut him off.

_**Well of course not! Don't be daft now, it doesn't become you at all. In all fairness, you would do well in Ravenclaw… But no… No that wont do at all. They're too smart, they'd figure it out… But you're no Hufflepuff… **_

___Ohgod… _Thought Remus. _Not there… I'm not… Not brave enough. I'm a bloody coward. I don't belong here. Send me home. Please, I'm not brave enough! Im a coward, a useless, coward! I shouldn't be here, I don't belong! Just send me home! Pleaseohgodplease…. _Remus could feel tears bubbling up from under his eyelids, and was filled with a sudden, desperate impulse to get the hell out of there. But he stayed. Just to see.

_**Ah now, don't be upset. Everything you've been through, every month. All that pain and fear, and to still sit here, proving them all wrong… That is true bravery. Of course you belong here. And why didn't I see it sooner? There really is no house more deserving of you, nor any boy more deserving to be placed there. Remus Lupin, you are a **_"GRYFFINDOR!"

Remus slumped in half defeat, half relief, but managed to think a silent, _Thank you. I hope you're right,_ and got a Hat-like chuckle in return. Remus staggered away from the stool, and gave the Hat to a half smiling Professor McGonagall. Amongst faint applause, he sank into a seat at the Gryffindor table, unable to stop trembling, and wondering if he was really home?

Or just dreaming.

Then there were months, of making friends, of lying, so many lies… And the fear that he would forget himself, forget what to say, and they would find out.

And if they found out, surely they would kill him, he'd be expelled…

It happened, just as he had feared, one morning, mid march. He was in the Hospital Wing, recovering from the full moon, his many self inflicted wounds bandaged up, healing slowly. He was lying there, counting the missing chips of paint in the ceiling, when they entered his private cubicle. He blinked, eyes wide. They weren't allowed in here! Madam Pomfrey promised!They weren't allowed in here, they'd find out, they'd see-

They knew.

Fear settled in his stomach like icy cold lead, and he shivered, his face pale, golden eyes wide. "S…Sirius. James. W..What're y'doing here?" he mumbled. His mouth felt like it was filled with cotton wool and rusty nails.

"Remmie…" Whispered Sirius, who, the week before had gone through a phase of giving everyone he was friends with nicknames. _Friends._ Oh Merlin. He blinked furiously, and drew the blankets closer around him.

"P..Please g..go away…" he stammered. "I..I'm not well… I…" he trailed off, seeing the looks they were giving him. Then James reached over and grasped his shoulder gently, careful not to hurt him.

"We know, Remus." Remus shook his head, denying it. It couldn't be over. He didn't want to leave! He liked it here, it couldn't be over!

"No…" he whispered. "Oh Merlin no… Please, James, oh please…" James blinked, obviously confused. Sirius decided to clear things up once and for all.

"Remus, we know you're a werewolf." _Werewolf_. That was it. The word sounded like the death toll to Remus. His mouth opened, but he couldn't find the words. He bit his lip, tasting copper-bright blood. He could feel tears welling up, and bubbling out from under his closed eyelids. He wrapped his arms around his legs, and bent his sandy-haired head until his forehead was touching his knees. To the other two boys it looked as though Remus were trying to curl in on himself, to disappear entirely.

It was Sirius who understood. He understood immediately - he always could tell what Remus was thinking. "Remmie, we don't mind. Well, we mind for you, it must be awful. But we are your friends, and you may be a werewolf, but your our werewolf. You always will be. Right Jamie?" Remus couldn't look up. They must be mocking him. They must be. Who would want to be friends with him?

"He's right, Rem." James' voice. Sounding solemn, serious for once. "You're our friend. We wouldn't change that for the world. Honest to Merlin, we are going to help you through this." Remus looked up, damp eyes shining gold, disbelieving.

"Yeah!" said Sirius. "We're going to find a way to help you, Remus. We are gonna make you better." James grinned .

"Or die trying!" He saw the look on Remus' face, and muttered an apology. Remus nodded, and stared at the two of them. Then he laughed. He couldn't help it. These two boys, so reckless, fiercely protective and loyal. Gryffindor to the bone, and Merlin help him if he didn't love the daft pair.

"Y'Idiots…" he muttered. Sirius nodded proudly, and James chuckled.

"Damn straight Rem." The three boys smiled at each other, and Remus found himself in a fierce three way hug, having the life squashed out of him. He whimpered, and then laughed at their hasty apologies. Sure, it hurt. But it didn't matter.

Nothing did.

He had friends.

From then on, Remus Lupin was happy. He had a pack, and he had friends, support, love.

James and Lily got married, and it seemed that they would be friends for always.

Then Harry was born. Remus remembers being there, when Padfoot found out he would be Godfather, and got all emotional. It was Remus' turn to hold the boy, and the second his arms encircled the baby, his eyes flashed yellow. He could smell Lily's sudden spike of fear, and hastily smiled at her. "It's okay, Lily… It's okay, I won't hurt him, he's…" He cast around for the word, thinking of how to sum up this newest addition to his pack. "Cub. Moony cub." He said, his voice suddenly deeper, wilder, making his friends think of moonlit nights, and pine forests, and desperate howls to the sky. Sirius placed a hand on his arm, and James took Harry from Remus' shaking arms. Sirius looked at him, and Remus knew he understood. Within seconds, Sirius found himself with an armful of weeping werewolf, and smiled, burying his face in Remus' hair, his arms encircling Remus' waist.

"It's okay, Moony. I know. He's our cub. It's okay, Moony. He's one of us. Part of our pack. One of us." Remus nodded into Sirius' shoulder, chuckling weakly.

"Moony pack. Cub. Siri." he whispered. "Siri."

"I'm here. I'll always be here, Moony."

"Siri."

And then that night, that awful night. He had woken, after the moon, and known something was wrong. He was gripped with a sense of panic, and ran the entire way to Godric's Hollow, the wolf inside of him giving him the strength to save them.

But he was too late.

They were dead.

He found James and Lily's bodies strewn on the floor, and Moony howled.

Anger flooded through him, consuming him, and he cried out, his head thrown back, his eyes wild, yellow, screaming out, sounding more animal than human.

His pack was dead.

His cub was gone.

His Sirius…

traitor.

The pain in his heart was so intense it was almost physical. He fell to his knees, and felt his heart shatter.

He was betrayed.

His pack was dead.

He was alone.

Moony was alone.

Remus got to his feet, and ran into the forest, his mind lost in a haze of wolves and blood, moonlight and the scent of his pack's death.

Black would pay.

He would pay.

Then, twelve years later, and he was there. His cub, his Harry. Inches away, and Remus had to restrain himself from taking his Cub and running from the world that betrayed him.

And now, standing in the dusty Shack, he sensed it. Something wasn't right. Remus looked at his old friend, pain in his eyes. Pain and confusion, betrayal.

But the map had shown Peter, where was Peter? The map must have lied, it must have…

"Where is he, Sirius?" the words came out harsh, and shaking, filled with emotion. _Please, let him be here… Pettigrew… If he's alive… There might be one left, one left for Moony's pack! _Sirius was staring at him, his face giving away nothing. Then he pointed at Ron Weasley. And Remus needed no explanation. He never had. Wormtail. The rat, Ron had the rat.

But… Peter was alive? So Sirius never killed him.. But… "But then…" Remus stared at Sirius, trying to understand, willing Sirius to explain. "…why hasn't he shown himself before now? Unless-" Remus' eyes widened.

No… It couldn't be. No.

"-unless _he_ was the one… Unless you switched… without telling me?" _Please. Oh Merlin please…_

Sirius nodded. He nodded. He would never lie to Remus, never. It wasn't him. _Oh Merlin it wasn't him. _Remus hurried forwards, pulled his Sirius to his feet, and embraced him. "Siri…" he breathed, inhaling the scent of his pack mate. It was still him, masked by sadness, and time, but still him. His Sirius. His friend. He felt a shudder run through Sirius as the man sighed deeply, and whispered back, "Moony…"

_It's him. My Sirius._

_He's here._

_He's back._

_Together again._

And then there was the Battle, in the Department of Mysteries.

The Battle that stole his Sirius from him.

He had watched Sirius fall, frozen in shock, and in those last seconds, their eyes had met…

And there hadn't been a need for last words.

There never was.

Sirius always understood his Moony, and Moony always understood his Siri.

So instead of running after Sirius like every fibre of his being was screaming for him to do, he held back Harry, saving him.

He had no one left, no friends, no pack, no family.

But he had Harry.

And he would never let him go.

Never.

_And now, on the eve of battle, Remus lets the last of the memories fall into the swirling Pensieve with a flick of his wand. _

_Harry may lose him, but he would have this, this last gift. _

_A gift of memory._

_Memories of Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs. _

_Memories of Harry's parents._

_Of Moony's pack._

_Hopefully, it would be enough._

_Hopefully, his Cub would understand._

_Remus Lupin stands, and dashes the goblet to the ground._

_The bitter potion splashes in a wave of smoke over the carpet._

_Remus draw back the curtains, braces himself, and waits for the moonlight to consume him._

_Blood, screaming, cracking bones._

_Moony is running._

_Faster, faster, over the grass, through the pine trees._

_Tonight, it is the end. _

_Moony will have vengeance. _

_He reaches the clearing, and howls as the Death Eaters' lives come away in his teeth._

_Blood, and screams, and howls of victory. _

_Then it ends, with a screamed curse, a flash of green._

_And Remus is Moony, and Moony is Remus, and together they howl to the moon, shining bright like a pearl, like a memory._

**Authors Note: **Thanks to my second reviewer, dancing in daydreams.

I will do the last Marauder, Peter, and am considering continuing with some more people - possibly Harry, Tom Riddle, and others. Let me know what you think.


	5. Epilogue: Peter

_**Disclaimer: **__Characters Owned by J K Rowling_

_**Mnemosyne**_

**Peter Pettigrew**

**The Day it Ends**

**The Battlefield**

_I lower my wand, tears coursing down my cheeks._

_I had to do it._

_Let him go with a bit of dignity._

_It's what Remus would have wanted._

_He wouldn't want to be chained up and euthanized…_

_I had to kill him._

_I had to._

_I kneel next to Moony's body, and stroke the soft fur._

"_I'm sorry"._

_Whispered words, that no one hears._

_I am sorry though._

_I didn't mean for this to happen._

_I don't know what went wrong._

_But I'm the only one left._

_The last Marauder._

_I have killed all my friends, all the people that ever loved me._

_I'm a coward, a failure._

_Born failure._

_I stay there, kneeling in the blood and mist, and tip my head to the sky, letting the rain mingle with my tears of shame, of regret._

_I don't think I'll ever leave this place._

_I think it ends now._

_I'll just wait._

_Maybe…_

_Maybe they'll forgive me._

_Maybe, they'll take me back._

_Moony, Padfoot, Prongs._

_I'm sorry._

_I'm so sorry._

When Peter Pettigrew was six years old, his father died of Wizard's Flu.

Three months later, is mother died whilst giving birth to his baby sister. She didn't survive.

Little Peter was consequently forgotten about. Shipped off to his Grandmama's, and left to amuse himself. He had no friends, and no family.

He was alone in the world.

Peter can remember sitting at the top of the stairs, chin in his hands, podgy elbows resting on podgy knees, wishing. Peter wished for a friend who loved him for who he was. A friend who was loyal, and smart, and funny, and kind. A friend who would die for him. A friend he would die for.

Every birthday for the next five years, Peter wished for the same thing when he blew out his candles. Every night, he wished on the stars, and even prayed once or twice.

When he got his Hogwarts letter, he was convinced that this was it.

His friend would be at Hogwarts.

Many years later, the main thing Peter remembers about his first day at Hogwarts is the train journey. Eleven years old, the chubby little blonde boy lugged his trunk onto the train, and looked around hopefully for someone to sit with. The first compartment he reached contained three other first years, two girls and a boy. He knocked on the compartment door, and smiled nervously. "Hullo. I'm Peter Pettigrew, and I'm eleven years old, and I love chocolate frogs, and I have fifteen Dumbledore cards, and I'm new, and can I sit with you?" He said, not pausing for breath. The girls started giggling and whispering, and the boy stood up.

"Sorry." he said, not sounding sorry at all. "Um. This compartment's full".

Peter spent the first half hour of the journey knocking on doors, and each time he found one with spaces, the people inside told him there was no room. He was about halfway down the train when a bunch of sixth years with green badges walked past, and one of them stuck out their foot, sending Peter sprawling to the floor with a thud. "Careful!" said the boy. "You'll de-rail the train!" The group walked off, laughing, and Peter sat on the floor, not bothering to stand, sniffing. It seemed like he'd never find that friend he'd wished for. Just as he was about to owl his mother and tell her he wanted to come home, hope arrived, in the form of a gangly, messy haired, hazel eyed boy, with round metal glasses. He stuck out his hand, and hauled Peter to his feet.

"Hi there! I'm James Potter. Why are you sitting on the floor?" He asked curiously. Peter went red, the white. Maybe James would be his friend.

"I'm Peter Pettigrew. I couldn't find a compartment, and some tall kids tripped me up." James scowled at the sixth years retreating backs.

"Probably Slytherins." he sneered. "Cowards. They only pick on people who won't fight back. Anyway, I'm sitting in a compartment back there with my friends. D'you want to join us?" Peter looked up at James, who was quite a bit taller than him, and beamed.

"Yes please!" James grinned back and nodded decisively.

"Cool. I can tell you're gonna be one of us. A Gryffindor!" James punched the air enthusiastically, and Peter followed him to the compartment that James was sharing with a frightened looking red-haired girl who was sitting as far away from James as possible, and a dark haired boy called Frank. Plonking himself down on the seat next to James, Peter smiled shyly, and soon James had him engaged in a deep and meaningful discussion about the merits of Cauldron Cakes in comparison to Pumpkin Pasties.

When the trolley arrived, James bought a whole armload of sweets, and to Peter's complete delight, shared a chocolate frog with him. It was the first time anyone had shared anything with him. When he had stammered his thanks, James had grinned, and said the magic words. "That's what friends do, Pete! Mind if I call you Pete?"

It was official.

Peter Pettigrew had made a friend.

A year later, he discovered a shocking secret about one of his three best friends. Remus was a werewolf! And Peter was terrified. He hurried over to James, and told him, only to his surprise, James already knew. So did Sirius. Peter frowned, and James hastily apologised for forgetting to tell him, before informing Peter that they were all fine with it, because Remus was a friend, and friends looked out for each other, despite any flaws. Peter nodded, and accepted the fact that his friend was a murdering, bloodthirsty monster, because… Well, because James said it was okay, and James couldn't be wrong. He was Peter's best friend, after all.

Peter remembers the moment he realised that James wouldn't die for him. It was sixth year, and Peter was walking in the third floor corridor, past the portrait of the trolls. He was all alone, because James was in detention still, and Sirius was studying in the library. He rounded the corner, and to his astonishment, James was there, staggering out of a doorway that promptly vanished. He was being held up by Remus, who was scowling. Sirius was trailing behind them, singing softly, still clutching a nearly empty bottle of Firewhisky. Peter tugged off the Invisibility Cloak and gaped at them. Remus instantly flushed, and began to explain and apologise guiltily, but Sirius just clapped him on the shoulder. "S'ry, Pete, mate… Um… yeah, we wuz jus' havin' a drink, s'all… Whoops…" He promptly collapsed, causing Remus to sigh in irritation.

"Here, Peter, take James, I'll get Sirius…" Remus cast the mobilicorpus charm, and hurried back to Gryffindor Tower, leaving Peter to struggle with a semi-comatose James, who was talking about unicorns, and nargles, and the crumple horned snorcack that had been discovered in Hungary. Peter didn't complain, just helped James to the Tower. They had almost made it when McGonagall popped up from Merlin knows where, and glared at them. Before Peter could so much as blink, the Firewhisky bottle was in his hand, and his arm was round a very sober looking James' shoulders.

"What is going on here! Mr Potter, explain yourself!" James had smiled and nodded.

"Yes, Professor, you see, the thing is… Well I had to go get Pete. He's got a bit of a drinking problem…" James stage whispered. "I had to go get him, make sure he didn't run afoul of the Slytherins. Sorry Ma'am, it won't happen again-" McGonagall cut him off with an irate shriek of anger.

"Mr Pettigrew! Firewhisky! Out after curfew! Trying ot get other students in trouble! How dare you!"

"Wha…" stammered Peter, so astonished that he could barely say a word.

"Completely shit faced." mumbled James. Obviously McGonagall heard, because the sent James inside without deducting so much as a point. Peter, on the other hand, got a weeks worth of detentions, and lost 50 points. And of course, the next morning, he'd give James the last of his hangover potion, and when faced with a load of angry Gryffindors, he'd just apologise, never once blaming James.

However, his silence came at a cost. He felt betrayed. Obviously, James didn't care for him that much. Obviously, his hero was nothing more than a sneaky coward. Little better than the Slytherins that he plagued.

Peter was devastated.

Two years later, when they had graduated, Peter was invited to the wedding, and sat in the third row, watching Sirius be best man, and watching Remus holding the rings on a red velvet pillow. He felt the jealousy burn in his chest, like a hideous snake crushing his heart, the venom spreading through his veins.

And then Harry was born, and although Peter was still invited over, he was on the sidelines, just waiting and watching as Sirius was named Godfather, and Remus was introduced as Uncle Remmie. He had turned with a hopeful face to James, who after everything was still his friend, and after all… Well, if he was being brutally honest, Peter did still admire him more than most. "Who am I?" he asked excitedly. James had stared at him, bemused.

"Why, you're Peter of course!" he had chuckled, and Peter had felt that pang of regret, almost hatred.

It's somewhat alarming how similar those two emotions can be. Love and Hate. He loved James, he really did. Not like _that_, of course. Like a hero. An obsessive, worshipping love, like a minion praises a King, like one would admire God. That's what James was to him, God.

And of course, one can very easily hate a God. He hated that James didn't notice him, he hated that James wouldn't recognise his hero-worship. He hated that James never looked at him with admiration and awe in his eyes.

He hated that James didn't respect him at all.

He hated that James laughed at him.

He hated that after all this, he was still his best friend.

He hated that after all this, he would still die for James.

Then it happened. He was cornered, captured, and taken to Voldemort himself. He was tortured, and brutally. He can remember screaming, white hot pain, and sound of his own wails echoing in the damp stone dungeons. He can remember the bitter tang in his mouth of blood and defeat and tears. His screams. The sound of failure. _Failure. Born Failure_. He had caved. It wasn't his fault, truly. He was just scared. Scared, and hurting, and alone. As alone now as he was when five year old Peter wished for a friend every night before he went to sleep.

While he was being crucio-ed within an inch of his life, all he could think was _James will save me. He'll come, any minute now. He'll save me._ But he never came. And eventually, Voldemort grew bored. He raised his wand, and this was it. He was going to die. And for what? For a friend who wouldn't save him?

Not a chance in hell.

So he had given in. Given up.

The Mark was emblazoned on his arm, an ugly, evil sign of his inner turmoil, his hatred and jealousy branded on his flesh.

He kept it a secret, a dark, closely guarded secret that ate away at him inside, wracking him with guilt. He had nightmares, of his friends discovering his failure, and throwing him to the Dementors. He knew they would. Remus was have his disappointed face, and Sirius would yell and curse and hex. James…

James would of course be angry. He would turn to Peter and say, You're No Friend of Mine.

They would betray him.

So when the time came, when they made him Secret Keeper, when he held their life in his hands, he didn't hesitate to get them, before they got him.

He had no regrets, none at all.

Until he went to Godric's Hollow.

James' lifeless body, blood stained on his shocked face, his hazel eyes clouded.

And then Peter realised what a mistake he had made.

What a stupid, evil, unchangeable thing he had done. And there was no going back. James was dead. James was dead, and it was his fault. He wished he could take it back. Turn back the clock, change time.

But it was too late now. They would know, Sirius would know.

Sirius.

Oh Merlin.

Sirius was going to kill him. This thought struck Peter full of fear. Driven half mad, he ran, running through a fog of fear, and regret, and self-hatred. And then he was there, and the look in his eyes…

His silver eyes were glowing with anger and hatred and disgust and sorrow. His face was twisted in a grimace of pure despair. This was a man who would kill without so much as blinking. But Black stopped, he spoke, he said, "Peter, why?" And he was crying, and something inside of Peter broke. Seeing Sirius cry, seeing him defeated, lost… It made it all so real. And so Peter ran.

And he never stopped running.

He didn't mean for Sirius to go to Azkaban.

He thought they'd give him a trial.

He thought…

He thought wrong.

And then he'd seen Remus, in the Shrieking Shack, and he hated himself for what he'd done to Remus. The one that had always tried to be nice to him, left defeated and alone, no friends left. But Sirius had been there, and they hadn't believed him.

They hated him.

Everyone hated him.

_He'd been afraid to die at Voldemort's hand, but this… _

_This was so much worse than any torture. _

_He had no one. _

_His entire life, wasted. _

_He was a nobody. _

_A ghost._

_He would die, and no one would shed a tear. _

_Peter Pettigrew spreads his arms wide, and waits, in the middle of the Battlefield. _

_Green eyes watch, as the Last Marauder stands, waiting for deliverance. _

_He raises his wand, casts the spell._

_Part mercy killing._

_Part revenge._

_But there is no hatred._

_Only sorrow._

_Peter Pettigrew collapses to the ground, in a blaze of green._

_His last moments are filled with regret and tears, his pale eyes reflecting the bright moon watching over the war beneath._

_It is finished._

_The reign of the Marauders is ended._

_And all their memories are scattered, lost, stolen; like tears are stolen by the rain._


End file.
